


Lost and Found

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Complete, Cute, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, High Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Patricide, RusAme Secret Santa 2017, Stalking, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: After being left to die in the forest, Ivan has adjusted to his new secluded life of survival. That is, until he meets the most interesting wizard in the world, Alfred.A gift to kirani56 on tumblr for the rusame secret santa event. Merry Christmas and have a smutty new year! <3





	1. Chapter 1

Lord Braginsky, the most powerful ice wizard ever born in recent history, was extremely angry with everyone.

The aging court wizard to the grand prince of Kievan Rus was becoming a joke. Lord Braginsky dehumanized and beat his way through three wives. They had been complete publicity disasters within the royal court. After nearly twenty years, he only managed to produce two daughters and a son. Only one of them had abilities worthy of battle, according to popular opinion.

Natalia had control over rain storms and lightning. Katerina could heal the sick. Ivan could... grow plants. Flowers almost exclusively. He was shy and not confrontational, failing all expectations. Ivan was never invited to royal events. The family never ate or talked in the same room with Ivan, fearful of the cruel parent's reactions. Father was so ashamed, he only referred to himself as 'General Winter'. Natalia, the apple of her father's eye, followed suit and became the 'Baroness'. Katerina still sent letters and small trinkets in secret. They never talked or saw each other out of social pressure.

Ivan's complete isolation had been almost tolerable, until one fateful sixteenth birthday. The pale ash blond teen was studying gardening books in his room, though it was hardly a bed chamber. It more resembled a botanical garden, tender vines climbing every viable surface. It couldn't be helped. Ivan's innate magic always bled out as he slept, wild and rampant. The tiniest seed or scrap of herbs from dinner could bloom into a field if Ivan lost control of his emotions.

There was a timid knock on the finely carved door. Ivan recognized the rapid beat of knuckles as his spineless manservant, Toris. “Come.” Ivan uttered, flashing royal purple eyes upward. He inwardly hoped he would have human visitors beyond tutors and servants. Today, it was not so.

Toris, shaggy brown locks that were jittery with anxiety, stepped inside. He held a scroll with a deep violet wax seal. Summons. Actual royal summons. Ivan had to reel in his climbing heart rate with deep breaths, lest he lose control and cause more damage due to plant growth. “Sir, General Winter requests your presence.” Toris announced weakly, stating the obvious.

Struggling to remain calm, the socially starved teen snatched the scroll and tore the seal. Even a written word from Father would be an improvement over his stark existence. Plants were hardly worthy conversationalists. The letter was painfully formal, not in Father's curling script at all. The contents were even more devoid of emotion than usual.

He was to pack enough clothes, books, and supplies for at least one fortnight of travel. He was being sent away for unstated reasons. “Toris, Toris, did he say anything about me?” Ivan asked, heart daring to feel elevated hope. “N-no sir. He only requested you pack and appear before him at the royal feast this night.”

Several vines grew from the floor, shattering painted tile as they twined around his form. He hardly noticed, at ease with the clinging life around him. “He's... going to talk... to me.” Ivan shuttered, heart beating hard. It had been nine long weeks since Father even looked at him. It had been five weeks since Katerina last came by with a care package. Ivan hadn't believed how isolated living in the same house could be until Father really put his foot down several years ago.

Gone was Ivan's rebellious streak, spirit broken. All he desired was human interaction now. A hug, a fatherly ruffling of his hair, anything. Even his own name being spoken in a sentence would do. He wrote his own name down often enough that it was familiar, but no one had said it out loud for almost four years.

“Toris, Toris, please stay. Help me pick out what to pack.” Ivan appealed desperately, latching onto the manservant's arm. The limb was warm and soft. Ivan couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched by another. At least six years, maybe more. “I can't. I'm not even supposed to talk to you.” the meek worker deflected, managing to wiggle free. He was gone nearly instantly.

Ivan wanted to scream in frustration, and also joy. Father was finally going to talk to him. After being secluded for weeks, he was finally interacting with others. Ivan had to behave, and be the best boy he could be. He packed a variety of casual gardening clothes and imperial pieces, humming to kill the stifling silence that was his life. Even the tutors, which were becoming rare these days, refused to chat casually. What was the point of speaking five languages when there was no one to converse with?

Not given a proper haircut for months, Ivan's platinum locks were done up in a tight braid that reached his back. Through trial and error, Ivan had learned how to shave last year. It had been out of necessity, more than anything. He hoped that particular style was still in fashion. It had been a very long time since he was allowed in public view after all. Putting on his best stitched robes and leggings, the teen began packing.

He hummed songs of his early youth, before Mother had died. When she had been around, Ivan was allowed in the village sprawling from Father's foreboding castle. He was freely given books. Literature about gardening, languages, and the arts. The very same books he packed now with reverence. There was nothing left of Mother these days though. No scraps of cloth, voices, or memories he could define. There was only a face in his mind and these ten books.

After clearing out the bathroom of basics, Ivan was ready with fur coat in hand. He actually lost the way to the banquet hall, which was a first. Father had completely redecorated most of the palace that was open to the public. Not even certain if it was day or night, the teen excitedly asked roaming guards for directions. Their simple lines and grunts were music to his ears, something new.

Ivan ended up in the banquet hall, which had somehow doubled in size during the past six years. The grand prince himself, looking much older, was pacing in thought as Father stood by impassively. The prince wore golden robes like those in stories of old. That was the exact moment Ivan was spotted by General Winter himself.

A thinning frosty white beard clung to a haggard face. Lifeless pale violet eyes looked at, and through Ivan. Lord Braginsky was completely disappointed, the younger son could just feel it. The heartless wizard had always been displeased with Ivan's very existence.

“What is this rabble?” the grand prince uttered in disdain, not recognizing Ivan at all. “He is nothing. An apprentice I'm disposing of.” the older man assured coldly. Ivan couldn't believe his ears, wouldn't believe it. “Is there scrolls confirming this?” the royal insisted. The teen handed over his summons, numb as Father avoided eye contact entirely.

The shining grand prince read the scroll, cocking a well groomed brow. Surely he in his gods given wisdom would realize father was wrong. “So it seems. I remember this now. You will be travelling to Vasingrad. My trusted court wizard made me aware me you've been mooching off the court since Lady Braginskaya's death some time ago. You'll have to earn your own living now, wizard.” the man declared with gilded authority.

“Your majesty, I'm his son. His only son.” Ivan protested softly, starting to tremble. “I don't care about the politics of this, just begone by sundown.” the powerful royal dismissed with a wave of his hand. Ivan stood in shock, not moving. When the traumatized male wouldn't budge, guards dragged him out of the room entirely.

Ivan had never been beyond the thin wooden walls of the town, let alone seen true wilderness. He didn't know how to feed himself, or sew his own clothes. Mother had died before she could pass on such vital skills. He couldn't even ride a horse, terrified of the massive beasts. “How am I supposed to find Vasingrad! How am I supposed to get there? You can't do this to me! I'm royal blood!” Ivan shrieked fearfully as he was dragged down another long hall.

One of the armoured guards sighed. “Make him shut up already” another groaned. Ivan felt a sharp blow to the head, followed by darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The winter air stung Alfred's eyes, making him squint. He shook snow off his furry ushanka, glad the Russians made ear flaps on all their silly hats. The thick bodied guide walked confidently ahead of the tanned southerner, as if the howling weather was a sunny day. Alfred hopped in the steps left behind his guide, like fish following the wake of a ship.

“How long until Vasingrad?” Alfred asked impatiently in clipped Russian. “If those wolves hadn't eaten our horses, half a day. Walking will be two days.” the burly man informed in monotone. “Can we keep the wolves away that long?” Alfred asked loudly. “Stay positive, mister... Gdon... Zho... zones.” the guide replied awkwardly, unable to grasp the concept of the letter J.

Alfred was not offended in the least. Most languages in this region didn't appear to have a J sound. The guide would choke on his last name, Beilschmidt. “Please Sven, call me Alfred.” the younger man answered with a bemused chuckle. “Olfret. That is much better.” the man replied, relief audible in his thick accent. After forced march for most of a day in silence, the men had to stop.

The honey blonde had been toasty warm the entire time, but his guide was looking frosty. Unwilling to reveal secrets in a land gripped by superstition and fear, Alfred could only offer his mittens. “You started the fire so quickly! You are much better at surviving than my usual clients.” Sven praised, eagerly accepting the warm fur mittens. They were a vast improvement over the thin leather things the thickly bearded guide was wearing now.

Night crept in from the thick forest around them, heavy and cold. After a time, Sven grew bored of staring at a camp fire while chewing on his last trail ration. “What brings you to humble Vasingrad? Family? Business?” the man began with a genial tone. “A bit of both. I am searching for someone.” Alfred replied cryptically.

“Vasingrad is cursed, Olfret. Since you paid so much, I will gladly lead you somewhere safer.” the man offered sincerely, wind reddened face crinkled with concern. Alfred shook his head, for this was the sixth guide to give him such an offer. “This is very important to me.” he insisted.

“It is rumoured Vasingrad has a... wood witch.” Sven whispered, as if talking about the witch would summon it. “A what?” Alfred asked, struggling not to laugh. People took magic extremely seriously around these parts.

The guide shuffled to the same fallen log Alfred was sitting on. He leaned closer, uncomfortably closer for Alfred's taste. “There is... wild magic, in the forest of Vasingrad. It kills lost men, It harbours beasts, It is truly evil. It is the work of witches.” the bearded man whispered, sounding subtly scared.

Alfred scooted away carefully, uncertain if the stranger felt the continuous heat pouring off him. It was another problem Alfred had dealt with most of his life. “... and you said, stay positive, Mr. Votchasky. I will watch the fire. Perhaps you can tug me along with a rope in the morning.” Alfred suggested warmly, partially serious. He had no intention of falling asleep in public view of another.

Agreeing to the arrangement, the guide passed out in minutes. Curled near the fire, the bearded stranger snored like distant thunder. Their camping supplies were several miles back with the corpses of their horses. Well, skeletons of their steeds more likely. A sense of dread settled on Alfred's shoulders, joining the anxiety and fatigue already residing. The wolves would catch up with them for certain. All the beasts of these harsh northern lands were fearsome and determined. Even the cold touched people were dangerously stubborn.

The wind whispered and shrieked like an angry woman. The vast dense forests creaked and complained softly in turn. In all of this, Alfred was alone as he stood guard. As promised, he kept the fire going for hours. The trouble was, he couldn't find viable firewood beneath the blankets of frosty white currently drowning the forest. He need to at least find one piece, even if the rest were ice blocks.

It wasn't a matter of starting the fire, it was the plausibility of it. Flustered at finding nothing dry, Alfred carried a frozen bundle of sticks some ways from his companion. Hidden behind a thick tree trunk, he allowed himself to relax. He let his stifled heat flow into the frozen bundle, enveloping it completely. The snow and ice melted away in moments.

Were he younger and less practised in magic, Alfred would have lost control and burst the bundle into hot flames. It unfortunately made sleeping a luxury. That was the one time he had no control over his gods given gift. When Alfred came of age, he was quick to flee home. His doting Germanic father, Ludwig, had been silently upset his youngest son had to leave. Alfred liked to think the strict parent understood why, after years of 'accidental kitchen fires'. It was a relief for the entire town that the carpenter's fire loving son was gone.

Alfred travelled, getting by on odd jobs. He slept in the woods to avoid burning down houses. He bought books and attended school, desperate to control himself better. It had been years living as a nomad, but he was finally able to function in society. He could sit down for tea and not burn the chair. He could wear nice clothes. He could own books longer than a week.

The tanned southerner could defend himself. There lay his greatest employment. Just as magic was real, terrible supernatural beasts roamed the world. Alfred often captured them alive, bringing them in for reward money. More often than not, these strange monsters were actually lost wizards, gone feral after their communities rejected them. Many times, Alfred would able to assist these poor souls. He'd socialize with them, bringing them books. He'd spend several months getting them back into society before moving on. Alfred was the hero after all.

Other times, some witches and wizards were too far gone. Alfred swallowed, remembering his last quest in the squalor of overpopulated Moscow. The poor tormented man he'd discovered at the epicentre of a new plague had to be terminated, beyond redemption. After that sombre event, Alfred wallowed in a local bar. There he had heard of the cursed woods of Vasingrad. A place where trees tore people apart. A land of mystery where ghostly wolves and demon bears roamed.

An admittedly drunk Alfred had been intrigued. He was outbound on a caravan the next day.

One month and three guides later, Alfred was regretting the trip immensely. His cash was getting low from all the expenses. This better be one hell of a treant or demonic bear. Grand princes loved that stuff, and Alfred was getting too light in the pockets.

Alfred snapped out of foggy thoughts and into reality, a soft crunching of snow behind him. He ducked and turned his head sharply. A wolf, ghostly white and snarling, lunged. How foolish of Alfred! How Stupid! He had let their pursuers get within attacking distance due to fatigue! Instinctively, the young man's mind flared out protectively.

A brilliant streak of fire flowed from his bare hand, striking the predator and charring hair. Two more wolves pounced from the snow, cutting off his escape. Panicking, he whipped the living rope of flame about with precision. The creatures scattered as their faces burned. The distinctive reek of singed hair swirled around Alfred.

Tense with adrenaline, Alfred glanced around. All the snow around him had melted away in the fight, a side effect of letting out compressed magic. The exhausted guide was still sleeping on the ground, no longer snoring loudly. With a gentle nudge, he rolled the resting man over. “Sven! Sven! Are you alrigh – Oh shit! Oh shit!” Alfred blurted out in native German mid sentence.

The bearded man was dead, the rot of advanced septic wounds wafting off his corpse. An infected wolf bite on the neck seemed to be the cause, skin mottled black and curling. The stubborn fool had marched too hard trying to reach healers in Vasingrad. Ironically, exhaustion killed him first. That or the cold.

Wolves gone as quick as they appeared, Alfred was left in a troubling scenario. Should he bury Sven? He had only known the man eighteen hours. The ground was probably half ice this time of year anyway. Covering his nose and mouth, Alfred warily plucked the dead man's coin purse off his waist. The stench was too much for Alfred's weary senses.

Alfred backed away on wobbly legs and vomited, regretting it immensely. There was very little to expel. The last time either man had been left alone to eat was hours before the wolves killed the horses. Suffering no sleep for almost two days, Alfred's vision blurred and his mind swirled. There was nothing left at this campsite for him now. The best Alfred could do was take note of the stars his guide had followed. Hopefully this accursed town was in that direction. The moon was full and luminous, the only blessing of this trip.

The lone man travelled with a sloppy gait, pushing through snow as high as his knees. Distant howls carried on the wind, but Alfred wasn't sure if they were real. Time passed, though Alfred barely felt it. Panting from the effort of travel, Alfred paused and squinted. Beyond the midnight glitter of snow that filled the air, there was a gentle sloping hill. From the vague shape of it, it seemed human made, possibly a road. Several shapes peered over the hill. They were small and slim, with black dots for noses.

Wolves. The horrible demons had tracked him and cut him off. Alfred was sleep deprived and low on energy, having used most of his magic. He was done for. “Bring it on, you wolf bastards!” Alfred challenged, outraged and upset. He was a hero! He wasn't going to die like this!

Before his foe could attack, something stirred up the snow beneath the wolves. Jagged pale tree roots burst upwards through the snow, impaling every creature but Alfred. Ogling the strewn animals as they were torn apart by plant growth, Alfred couldn't move. He didn't pee himself at witnessing the atrocity, only due to lack of fluids.

Between two still dying wolves, a ragged looking stranger walked over the crest of the hill. He had wild silver blond hair tangled and stained with plant life. Intensely purple eyes brimmed with magic as the hulking figure came near. Brain malfunctioning, Alfred screamed and back away on heavy legs. “Stay away! I'll burn you!” He threatened in broken Russian.

The figure stopped advancing, grinning like a child. The hulking man seemed entranced by the weak flames that danced around Alfred. “So beautiful.” the stranger crooned to no one, pulling back greasy strands of his own hair to get a better look. Alfred paused, realizing this creepy person was capable of coherent speech.

Before the plucky blond could talk his way to freedom, the tall homeless man rudely blew fine green powder in Alfred's face. Sneezing fiercely, the young man recalled the acrid taste in his mouth. Well, shit. Magic sleeping powder. Today was just going lovely.

The drug was strong, making Alfred wobble on his feet in moments. His tongue felt thick as he fought to stay awake. “You are so strong!” the stranger cooed, catching Alfred as he toppled over. The scent of flowers was overpowering, flooding his nostrils. Lowered to a soft snowbank, Alfred blinked blearily as he lost the will to move. “Sleep... sleep little bird. Tomorrow is another day of spring...” the crazed loon continued singing, sitting next to Alfred in tattered gloves and fur robes.

Knowing death was coming, Alfred shuddered and closed his eyes. Darkness consumed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Having travelled alone in the cursed woods of Vasingrad for years, Ivan lived for the plants of the region. The fallen trees provided him shelter after the superstitious villagers denied him. The bushes gave edible berries and flowers when Ivan hungered. It was only fair he respected nature in turn. The Russian learned to hibernate with the forest, and defend the roads in warmer times.

Today was most unusual. Ivan stirred from magically suspended sleep after almost a month, groggy and confused. He could have sworn he sensed warmth in the land. Nearby, tingling heat at the base of a fallen log. It was tiny, yet immensely hot, like touching melted wax as it cooled. It took several drunk moments to realize it wasn't spring at all. Touching the bare ground of his cave dwelling, Ivan lost part of himself to the sleepy reservoir of energy beneath.

Tracing thousands of dormant root networks, Ivan's mind stretched. He pinpointed the target, the mysterious thing that wrenched him from unconsciousness. Other than locating things, this spell wasn't all that useful. Ivan still had to get up and travel. Groaning as he stretched, the young man felt joints pop and snap after a month of inactivity. Magic helped keep hunger and atrophy at bay during hibernation. It didn't stop everything from locking up.

Stumbling around his dark cave with a stub of a lit candle, the male glanced at himself in a cracked mirror. He was too greasy and filthy for public appearances, but too sleepy to care. Still wearing his fur sleeping wear, Ivan lazily tossed on a worn jacket and gloves. His boots hadn't been taken off for a month, and he didn't feel like unleashing that ripe horror just yet.

The light of a full moon was startling after hibernating in a dark hole. The world outside was white and hostile. Ivan shivered fiercely as his exhales made foggy puffs, still used to the warm humidity of his home. Ugh. Winter was so awful. Still, he wanted to discover this source of heat that roused him. Maybe he could use it back at the cave.

Crunching through preserved snow banks, Ivan yawned as he found wolf tracks. They all headed the same way Ivan was going, so he absently followed them. A campsite with a still blazing fire was discovered soon after. Six wolves were dining on an unfortunate traveller. Having no patience for the fickle instincts of predators, Ivan flicked a hand up. Long dead tree roots revived at his will, jutting upwards and impaling the furry threats. 

Too easy.

Still slightly sluggish, Ivan warmed himself by the fire as the wolves bled out noisily. Ivan ignored them, noting how warm the ground was around this fire. The fire seemed almost magical, extremely difficult to stifle. It took several armfuls of snow to kill the blaze. Ivan took this part of his job very seriously. The forest became very unhappy when people left unattended fires like this.

Now to find the fool that left this mess! A curious trail of melting snow led towards town. It wasn't freezing up quickly, which was strange. Ivan's suspicions were confirmed, as he tasted the melting snow and sniffed the air. Warmth and the scent of summer tickled his senses. This fire was from a magic user. How exotic!

Invigorated by the possibility of a new magical friend, Ivan sped up his slow pace. Knowing wolves well, Ivan decided to take their tracks instead of the wizard's trail. The path led up and around a hill. It was where the old road used to go, before Ivan moved into the area. Even with the cave warded, Ivan's magic still leaked everywhere. The once sleepy forest reclaimed the road within weeks, thriving on Ivan's presence. At least somebody appreciated his magic.

Over the hill, a loud voice rang out “Bring it on, you wolf bastards!”

The words were Russian, but the accent was foreign. Perhaps Germanic, for it reminded Ivan of one of his tutors from long ago. Intrigued, Ivan approached the top of the hill. A small pack of wolves, keen on trapping this stranger, ignored the curious wizard.

This was normal, since Ivan's scent lingered in every part of the forest. Predators became blind to it after a time. One wolf snarled, startled that a living piece of the forest was approaching. Not taking the risk of another bite, Ivan channelled a whisper of energy into the dead earth below. Dead plant life revived to his wishes, eager to impale the beasts and soak in nutrient rich blood.

The cornered man was lightly dressed, not bothering with a hat or mittens. He looked terrified by Ivan's meagre display, frozen in place. That was hardly new behaviour. What really stopped Ivan in his tracks was the man himself.

A well defined jawline beneath a golden tan. Freckles splayed below sky blue eyes of summer. The man had hair of gold, unlike Ivan's dirty platinum. He was strong and trim beneath his expensive travelling gear. “So beautiful.” Ivan sighed dreamily, pulling back greasy strands of his own hair to get a better look. He just wanted to memorize every little detail, touch every curve. He contemplated if the handsome stranger was as cheerful as the sunflowers he resembled.

The handsome stud had yelled some sort of threat earlier. Ivan never heard it, absolutely enamoured. A pathetic ring of protective flames light the man's features with a golden hue. It was all so romantic, just like he'd read in books. Desperate to impress this travel worn man, Ivan produced relaxing spores from his skin nervously. It would at least set the mood for a nice conversation.

Ivan didn't even notice he was singing until two verses in. It was a habit he developed over the years when anxious, learned from his late mother. Gods no, now the magnificent guy was looking at him like he was crazy! In a last ditch effort to fix things, Ivan blew the relaxing spores between them.

At first, the stranger looked disgusted, not affected in the least. “So strong!” Ivan blurted out, genuinely surprised. Most people couldn't resist his spores at all. The earthen wizard spoke too soon, however. Ivan gently caught the man as he fell, lingering in the radiant warmth. His heart fluttered from the contact. With great regret, the Russian lowered his new guest of honour to the snow.

In his haste, Ivan had made the spores far too strong. Oh well, the second try would be much better! Ivan could take him back to the cave, and make them a nice dinner by candle light. Maybe not use the spores next time. Maybe if Ivan was smooth enough, he could steal a kiss or two...

Singing a soothing melody of nonsense, Ivan patiently watched his new romantic conquest pass out cold. After a moment, something even more wondrous happened. The tanned blond's clothing began to smoulder and blacken. Ivan covering his gaping expression as clothes literally burnt off the sexiest man to ever exist.

A keening groan left his body, a sound Ivan didn't even know he could make. For several minutes, he struggled to function as he drank in the sight of toned muscles. The stranger's body was equally tan everywhere, even down... oh. Oh gods, everything was so perfect. Feverish to touch the limp member between plush thighs, Ivan neared with a needy hand. He stopped himself last minute, biting his lip.

No. Ivan was royal blood, and he would behave. This Adonis and him would talk over a lovely dinner, maybe bond a little, and then they'd... Well. Ivan didn't know exactly how sex worked between anyone. But he was eager to learn now. So painfully eager.

Since the spores wore off after ten minutes, Ivan hauled his guest home. The unconscious wizard was gently laid on a bed of leaves. Damn near ready to dry hump something, Ivan turned his back to take care of things. About to smear organic lube on his aching dick, Ivan smelt something unpleasant.

Smoke. The bad smell, the one the forest despised. Ivan looked over his shoulder, and panicked. The handsome blond splayed openly before him was too hot. He was literally burning a hole in Ivan's attempt at a mattress.

Other issues were ignored in favour of this new emergency. With less care than planned, Ivan promptly dragged the sleeping man off the bed. Now laying on the rocky cold floor of the cave, no damage had been done to the traveller. Ivan could hear soil crackling as it burned. Briefly mindful, the pale Russian glanced down at his coat sleeves.

Anything with prolonged contact to that caramel skin was utterly destroyed. His leather gloves. His rabbit skin winter clothes. Everything was ruined. It was clear now. This sexual idol was some sort of battle mage, specialized in corrosion or fire. Possibly he was quite gifted and had both. Like all poorly trained wizards, the man oozed his destructive brand of energy when sleeping. Ivan still had that issue himself, with no solution in sight.

Taking proper baths were a troublesome affair when you lived in an isolated cave. After dragging the wooden wash tub out of the back, Ivan had to knock the dirt out. Honestly, it was more of a glorified barrel. If Ivan was going to impress this god of a man, he would need to clean up. The wash tub was rolled outside and packed tightly with snow.

The Russian's teeth chattered towards the end of this task. His only winter coat burning up was going to be a huge obstacle. Retreating into the brush obscured cave, Ivan placed the wash bin beside his absurdly warm guest. Within minutes, the water was above freezing temperatures. Ivan's plans of a gentle masturbation in the bath were all for not, however. His briefly revived libido, along with feeling in his fingers, was killed by the crippling wind outside.

Still, it was nice to have his first warm bath since... Ivan stalled in thought, struggling to recall any recent memory of that kind. Shrugging, he browsed his extensive herbs selection hanging from the cave roof. Scents were an art to master, a skill to be honed. Avoiding complete insanity, Ivan spent all of his summers hunting for berry patches and herbs. He was rather pleased with his seed collection these days. Sparring a few flakes of soap, a fistful of dried mint and chamomile was added for interest.

Humming nonsense, He stripped the remainder of his charred clothing off. Washing in the too small tub was always a comedy routine. Only one part of the body could be cleansed at a time. After washing both legs and arms, his torso and neck were next. Gently scrubbing his body with a soft rag, a month of bodily impurities was cleaned away.

Last was his long ashen blond hair. It was the absolute filthiest, and best part of him. It went down to the base of his back, usually braided neatly. Plants often tangled fine roots and stems into his hair while he slept, always trying to embrace their source of magic tighter. After a month of hibernation, Ivan having messy hair was an understatement.

After battling with a knot of Ivy tangled in his hair, the Russian finally lashed his beloved locks into a thick braid. Next was the most difficult task. Shaving. Rubbing fresh hands through the impressive beard that had grown, Ivan eyes his shaving equipment nervously. The razor was poorly sharpened, and everything else was falling apart.

The young man really didn't want to cut his face again. It took several days to heal last time. Eyeing his guest, Ivan noticed something. The tanned beauty was very clean shaved. Blushing an indecent shade of pink, Ivan looked to more intimate areas. There wasn't even hair around that wonderful looking cock. He winced at the sheer lunacy of shaving such a sensitive area. Razor blades were dangerous enough on faces. One wrong move and your manhood was ruined!

The handsome wizard probably had a spell for shaving. Before the villagers of Vasingrad banished him, Ivan recalled seeing shops for such services. Perhaps, if the second impression went better than the first, Ivan could ask about it. 

The determined Russian continued through his rigorous preparations. Every hair was tucked in place, every pesky beard hair cut away with only three bloody nicks. A mild herbal poultice would take care of those. Putting on a basic blue robe stolen from road bandits, Ivan cleaned out his only pair of boots until they smelled daisy fresh. Chewing on fresh mint, Ivan used only the best for dinner. Stolen bear jerky, berries, and a boiled potato with herbs. Delicious!

Ivan patiently waited for his visitor to awaken, unable to stop smiling. An all new magical friend that could actually talk! Having anyone at all that could talk at all would suffice. Time dragged by, and that smile faded away. Ivan puttered around the small cave, regrowing carpeting that had been trampled or burned.

Yet more time passed, And Ivan had eaten all his food, wooden plate clean. After a long time, Ivan relieved himself outside the cave and tended to the fearsome bushes guarding the entrance. They deserved the most praise.

It was now midday, and Ivan was exhausted. He was still used to hibernation cycles, struggling to keep his eyes open. Writing a crude message on the dirt floor beside the primitive dinner, Ivan gave up for the time being. A bowl of melted snow was placed beside the deeply asleep man. The Russian could only imagine being on fire all the time would make a man thirsty.

Curling up on a soft pad of vegetation, Ivan curled up and held himself. With one more lustful gaze at his new potential friend, the Russian relaxed and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The first sign of not being dead was nagging back pain. Alfred rolled on his side, but it was hardly any better. Irritated, he wiped sleep out of his eyes. Stretching luxuriously, he looked around. The honey blond was seemingly unharmed in some sort of cave, naked as the day he was born. The lack of clothes was nothing new. Once every couple weeks he just lost control and burnt a lot of things.

Nothing about this situation was pleasant though. Everything about this cave was dark and gritty. The dirt floor was uncomfortable. Strings of what felt like dried herbs tickled alfred's head as he sat up. Even the magic that flooded this place was itchy and crude. Lighting a harmless golden fire in his palm, Alfred squinted into the darkness.

Despite feeling disgusting, the cave was meticulously clean. There was primitive carpeting in the form of leaves and grass. How the grass was so healthy indoors was a mystery. A thick ball of dead twigs choked up the cave entrance, which was only four long strides away. The scent of wild flowers was stronger than ever, almost nauseating.

Earthen magics. The fiery southerner had never understood it, and barely interacting with it. Whether it was plants, rocks, or something else, it was always so gross. This place was passable, but he'd encountered exceptionally filthy living quarters before, dripping with unpleasant earthen magics. These same energies seemed to be pouring from one side of the cave. It took a moment to realize there was a living man there, obscured by a plethora of tiny vines. The threads of greenery bathed in magic as they attempted to encompass him.

The living trap was obviously trying to consume this familiar stranger. Scared of this place, though he'd never admit it, Alfred started burning off fine tendrils of greenery. When the man was half freed, he shifted and revealed more than loose blue robes. The face was pale and poorly shaven, framed by platinum shaggy locks. A braid thick enough to bind a man trailed behind, impressively long.

Deeply breathing in heavy slumber, this man was large. Honestly, he was built like a lanky bear. The vines were at it again, entangling aggressively where Alfred had just singed them off. Shaking the man, Alfred tried to stir the poor bastard from slumber. 

A low groan sighed out of the pale man as he slowly became conscious. The highly invasive plants seemed to take notice, peeling back their advance like a living blanket. The reality of the situation revealed itself as deep purple eyes opened slowly.

Alfred wasn't trapped with yet another victim in a cave. He was the victim in a cave, and this was the perpetrator. The guy cleaned up and cut off his shitty beard, looking human again. It was still the same lunatic from before.

“Mmm. Hello.” the kidnapper greeted sleepily in Russian, smiling. The flickering light of Alfred's fire cast creepy shadows over the porcelain skin of his attacker. “Would you mind?” the stranger asked, gesturing to several stubs of candles nearby. Alfred looked then with great suspicion. After a moment, he deemed them harmless and lit them.

With a bit more light, more details became seen. There was cups and plates alongside clutter against one wall. A simple dinner was placed next to where Alfred's head had been in rest. Fear of the unknown was instantly banished at the sight. The fire wizard viciously attacked the food, not having eaten for what felt like days.

The unknown meat, berries and potato were gone, washed down with dirty water. “Oh, oh gods that was good.” Alfred groaned in his native tongue, entirely sincere. Eating bugs would have been delicious after fasting unwillingly for so long. His captor seeming to be looking everywhere but Alfred, blushing faintly. “There is... clothes, beside you. If you want to dress.” the Russian suggested blatantly, bashful.

Oh. Right. The tanned blond had completely forgotten he was naked. Picking through the dusty heap of clothes, Alfred noted how worn everything was. A lot of it was clearly mixed gender clothing, probably stolen at some point.

After a minute, Alfred pulled on a long dark brown tunic. He then froze, and looked back. “You answered me in German.” he said, dead serious. “Yes. I know German, Russian, Finnish, and Latin. My Swedish is... not good.” The stranger answered happily, listing languages previously unknown. At least to Alfred. It sure was strange that a cave dweller had royal levels of education.

“So... why did you kidnap me?” Alfred asked, just as blunt as any other Russian he had encountered on this terrible trip. “Oh, I did not mean... I was... You... caught me in the middle of hibernation. I was surprised to meet another wizard. It's been a long time since I lived with them. I'm called Braginsky, Ivan Braginsky.” the man sputtered. It was quite adorable, despite the sinister situation.

The name seemed important, but Alfred couldn't place it. He'd definitely heard of that family before. “You lived with other wizards? You hibernate?” Alfred pressed on, more curious than afraid. Ivan nodded solemnly, answering “Yes. When I came of age, Father abandoned me in the woods. It was a blessing. The forest loves me so much.”

Two things came to mind. First, this guy was clearly a socially starved moron. Plants, much like fire, were reactionary things. They were incapable of love. Secondly, Alfred was not getting paid. There was no mythical beast of Vasingrad. It was just this clearly untrained wizard goofing off in the forest. The guy probably thought he was doing Alfred a favour, by 'saving' him.

Mood gone sour, Alfred leaned against a pile of torn animal hides. Sulking, he looked over at the Russian. “I don't suppose there's any mythical creatures in these parts, huh.” he said mostly to himself. Ivan paused to think, absently cuddling the bundle of vines in his lap. “A werewolf tried to break in during the fall, but I killed him.” he replied in earnest.

Fuck. Werewolves weren't even good money, given how horrible they were to capture alive. It was easier to kill them on sight. This crazed loon belonged to a rich family if he was so well educated. Maybe Alfred could find out if there was a reward for Ivan's return. If not, a ransom could be extorted. Along the way, he could teach the guy how to not kidnap people. Two birds with one stone!

“So. My name is Alfred. I have a proposition for you big guy.” Alfred began confidently. The big goof drank in every word, eyes wide. “You and me will go find your family, clear up any issues. Sound good? We can hang out and everything along the way!” the tanned southerner offered with a smirk. 

He was immediately crushed in a hug, once again drowning in floral hell. He was kissed and squeezed, entirely inappropriate. The moment couldn't really get any worse, until it did. The crazy Russian was hard as a rock, pressed close. “Yes. Yes, I'll go with you. You're so kind and sweet, and I know we'll be the best of friends!” Ivan gushed, completely off his rocker. Alfred didn't know what bothered him more. How utterly love struck Ivan sounded, or the fact that his boner was huge.

The unhappy fire wizard could feel the monster against his thigh, like a small weapon. This was going to really suck if there was no reward.


	5. Chapter 5

Things were going wonderfully. Not only did Alfred enjoy the dinner, he wanted to spend lots of time with Ivan. The lonely Russian was so deliriously happy, he decided to wait on saying some things. Information that was very important.

The first two days, Alfred would stop by in the afternoon with tokens of affection. New candles and blankets from town. A more modern jacket with no holes in it. Ivan had only the deepest gratitude for these gestures. After a quick meal together, they trudged all the paths Alfred had walked, searching in vain for possessions lost during all three wolf attacks.

On the third day, They finally discovered a snow covered heap of bones. Ivan intimately knew they were once horses. Alfred looked genuinely upset, but Ivan couldn't find it in himself to care. The law of the wild was kill or be killed, and Ivan had exercised that law thousands of times. The only thing that Ivan could really think about was how amazing Alfred's ass looked in those new pants. The feverish urge to do... something.... was mostly sated, due to masturbating like a fiend before his guests arrived.

When It was clear the dashing Alfred was squeamish to gore, the Russian took over. Ivan started pulling the crude leather saddles away from the cleaned skeletons, looking for any remaining flesh. They were licked and nibbled to spotless condition. Disappointed, Ivan left the saddles and examined the bones. Not a scrap of meat to be seen! Angry, he grabbed thin ribs and broken them apart. Hunger drove him to search for sweet bone marrow or chewy tendons.

“Um, what are you doing?” the other man asked, inching away with a look of concern. “I am starving because I left hibernation early! I only had enough food to survive until spring. As wonderful as your time has been, we have eaten all the bear jerky and potatoes.” Ivan complained, his normally serene nature bitter.

Between his raging libido and increasing stomach pains, the still sleepy Russian was constantly hungry in some manner. “We could... go to town. They have roast chicken in the tavern. With all the money on these saddles we could afford it.” Alfred offered, almost nervous as Ivan pried apart the skeleton. The hulking Russian paused his frustrated scavenging. “Town? Vasingrad?” he muttered, rubbing his freezing hands together.

Remembering the angry villagers, the fiery mobs, the Russian shivered from fear instead of cold. “No. No, I won't. They'll hurt me again, they... they want to hurt me...” he denied in circular fashion, trembling. “Shhh... calm down Ivan. They won't hurt you.” his tanned angel soothed, cradling Ivan's numbed face.

Warmth of all kinds flooded Ivan's senses. Human touch like velvet, it make his heart flutter and his common sense evaporate. Old memories of being held by big sister Katerina swam from forgotten depths. The violet eyed Slav pulled Alfred into another hug, swept away by ignored desires. He kissed and touched everywhere exposed, feeling amorously needy. Just standing near the handsome hunk made Ivan lose his mind.

“Stop! STOP! I fucking mean it! I'm not... You can't just do that to fucking strangers!” Alfred screeched indignantly, painfully prying free. Ivan, once again at full mast, stood blankly. “I don't understand.” he replied, cocking his head in confusion.

“Were you locked in a room for years? Who in seven hells taught you how to behave?” the other accused, still disgusted for some reason. “I was locked in my room for weeks at a time. Father never talked to me as a child.” Ivan informed. After a moment he raised a finger, asking “Do you mind of I take care of this? I would prefer if you watch, but I really don't want to ruin my new clothes.” His throbbing erection was tenting in the new tan robes already, obvious as day.

“No! What the... fuck. I can't do this! I won't! You'll dry hump me before we get to the capital.” Alfred complained loudly, his own temper visible. Snow melted instantly wherever he paced. “Fedya, your ransom plan would have failed. My family left me to die in a wolf infested forest.” Ivan reasoned, starting to palm his own cock through the scratchy fabric.

“It's fucking rude to rub one out while talking.” Alfred snarled, looking away bashfully. “It is rude to openly brag about turning someone in for cash reward.” Ivan huffed, now starting to pleasure himself in earnest. Even the man's whiny voice was perfection, spurring him on. If Alfred argued anymore, Ivan was going to cum early.

“That was miles from your creepy cave. How in seven hells did you find out?” Alfred said in disgust, stubbornly facing away. It had a spectacular view of Alfred's ass and legs. “I heard through the forest. You are not the first monster hunter to seek the wood witch of Vasingrad. The others were much more stealthy and experienced. And handsome.” Ivan panted, egging the other male on. That last part was a lie, but Alfred was obviously a prideful creature.

Quickening his pace, Ivan sagged against a tree before his knees buckled. He was so close, the heat in his loins coiling tight. “I am the best monster hunter ever! You wouldn't know good if it stabbed you in the face! And I am the best looking, most talented, Germanic son of bitch you're ever going to see! Because you are a creepy cave animal!” Alfred bickered, ego wounded.

The delicious looking fire wizard turned around, anger burning in those glorious blue eyes. He looked so feral and wild in that one second. It was more than enough for a sexually starved Russian. Ivan could imagine the man touching him with that primal expression, making him squirm. With a few rough strokes, Ivan came loudly. He sank to the snow on wobbly legs, pleasure taking him in waves.

“You're a horrible person.” Alfred spat, resuming looking away. “Your legs are so sexy. Can I kiss them?” Ivan replied in a lusty daze, looking at the object of his wet dreams. “Are you even listening to me?” Alfred demanded. “Yes, it turns me on immensely.” The platinum blond answered honestly, tucking himself back in his clothes.

Once again clean and decent, Ivan followed behind Alfred once he was finished looting horse saddles. “So, when are you courting me with this... roasted chicken in tavern?” Ivan asked genially, not know what either item was. Well, he was aware chickens were animals, but he'd never seen or eaten one. Tavern was probably a location roasted chickens were made at. Probably.

“I'm not courting you! I just felt bad!” the fire wizard protested, marching away stubbornly. Ivan just shrugged and followed.


	6. Chapter 6

Even mentioning the name Braginsky in Vasingrad made people frightened. The droll little town seemed scared of mentioning the fearsome 'wood witch' as well. All three attempts to find information had proven fruitless. Alfred was about to give up, when the barkeep at the tavern caught his eye.

In the dark and moody drinking establishment, the portly man was quite cheerful. He summoned Alfred with a friendly hand gesture. Hopeful for a lead, the young man came to the bar top with a smile. “You should come with me.” the man suggested, more of a command. A decent fighter and armed with potent fire magic, Alfred followed to a back room without hesitation. The second the door was closed, the stranger grabbed his arm.

“Are you trying to get killed!? Do you live under a rock!?” the fat man hissed, barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?” Alfred asked, more curious than annoyed. “Lord Braginsky is the court wizard of the grand prince! He's ruthless! He could have spies in every town. How can you work in the region and not know this?” the bartender whispered.

Oh gods. That meant Ivan could be... No. This crazy lord man probably had like six children. All the paranoid ones did, diligent to hold onto the royal bloodlines. “... and the wood witch?” Alfred asked in lower voice.

The bartender, obviously one for stories, began with dramatic flare. “Rumour is... Lord Braginsky, or General Winter now days, had a bastard son. His third wife cheated with another wizard. He had a date to get his wife executed over the affair, but she died in childbirth. He later had the son killed in the woods near this very town. Now the ghost of Ivan Braginsky kills travellers and bandits. The town has hired clerics to cleanse the woods, but they never return.”

Alfred wanted to laugh at the theatrics of the tale. Shockingly, most of it made a lot of sense. It was a well known fact that many court wizards were exceptionally loose and flirtatious. Only gods knew how many gifted bastard children were wandering the known world. Lord Braginsky's method of dealing with the news was extremely common as well.

The downside of 'ghost' legends was you couldn't haul them in alive for cash reward. Ivan wasn't dead, but the world thought he was. Bringing the guy 'back to life' would just cause more problems than it solved.

Well this quest was a total waste. There was no demon bears in the Vasingrad forest. There was no evil treants. There was just a crazy dude that lived alone in a cave. This time was even worse. This crazy cave wizard was lusting after Alfred like he was a four course dinner. Alfred wasn't getting paid, and he felt really uncomfortable.

Alfred left the tavern, having made his decision. He was leaving this dump, and he was going to get real work closer to the trade routes. He wasn't even going to tell the loon in the woods. Alfred was just going to leave, right now.

As Alfred marched directly south, he made certain to stay quiet. Secretly he was terrified. There was a wizard of royal lineage that could hear everything said in a forest. Even a week into travel, he still felt watched. Alfred was certain he was just being paranoid. Still, it always seemed too quiet. The first time he'd been in the forests around Vasingrad, he was attacked by wolves. Three times in two days actually.

This time travelling was entirely different. There was no birds, wolves, or even people. There was only whistling wind and glittering snow as it fall off prickly green trees. It was the eighth day of travel when Alfred felt it again. Earthen magic, gritty and sour, like a rotting fruit taste you couldn't wash out of your mouth. It was faint, but starting to cling to his clothes.

“Ivan! Ivan Braginsky you crazy bastard! Where are you!” Alfred screamed into the dead forest, hearing his voice echo. There was nothing for a moment, and the tense southerner breathed a sigh of relief. Alfred's heart nearly jumped out of his chest a second later as he made a scared tiny sound.

A filthy glove covered hand burst out of the ground, within touching distance of Alfred's boot clad foot. The tanned blond backed away, taking in short panicked breaths. Another hand, then arms emerged from the earth. Soon there was a churned mix of snow and dirt before Alfred. Ivan pulled himself out of the earth much like a undead monster, something Alfred had the horror of witnessing first hand.

Coughing up a few worms and dirt, the insane Russian grinned childishly at Alfred. “You scream like a girl, Fedya.” Ivan teased affectionately, battling those devilish purple eyes at him. “Why are you following me!?” Alfred shrieked, unable to maintain any sort of calm. “Isn't it obvious? I'm in love with the most perfect person in the world. The moment I saw you, I felt... joy.” Ivan replied freely, reaching out to touch Alfred.

Before an awkward boner hug could commence, the fire wizard put out a hand to stop it. Ivan just grabbed the hand instead, holding it like they were a couple. “I don't know if you ever fell in love before, but its so overwhelming. It's like the world is rewritten. It's pure magic.” Ivan prattled on, refusing to release Alfred's hand. Knowing how stubborn the other was, Alfred gave up and began walking forward again.

Ivan whistled a merry tune as he walked with a quite unwilling Alfred. “Your eyes remind me of bathroom tiles.” he noted, being strange. “What the fuck does that mean?” Alfred objected, confused and insulted.

“After my mother died, I was very upset. Father locked me in a bathroom for two days as punishment for crying too much. I remember the only nice thing about that room was the blue tiles. Mother had picked them out years before. She always loved beautiful things, just like I love you.” Ivan explained serenely, as if any of this was standard childhood procedure.

Alfred listened, rather numb. He really wanted Ivan to leave him alone, but that story was ridiculously sad. What did you even say to something that horrifying? “Walking. Not falling.” Alfred noted curtly. When Ivan raised a brow in question, the fire wizard continued “People should walk into love, not fall. They don't get hurt as badly that way.”

For once, the Russian seemed to really listen. The pair paused at the edge of a large frozen river after five hours of travel, ice glazed dark blue. “We will not be crossing. The ice is too thin.” Ivan ordered, finally letting go of Alfred's now dirty fingers. “Why are we listening to you now?” Alfred argued, mostly for the sake of arguing. This guy was still creepy, and not worth time.

“I had a winter wizard for a father. I know ice.” Ivan deadpanned. When Alfred rolled his eyes, Ivan picked up a moderately heavy rock and slid it over the river's edge. The moment it settled, the ice began cracking around it like jagged spider webs. 

Begrudgingly, Alfred had to admit the guy knew his stuff. “Fine. What now?” Ivan looked at Alfred sheepishly. “I don't know... I'm lost... and scared.” the man answered with big ridiculously sad eyes. Alfred's inner hero screamed to do something, anything. Patting Ivan on the back uncomfortably, Alfred murmured, “We'll find a nice inn somewhere.”

The manipulative shit's mood changed instantly. “Really? Is that where roasted chicken is made? Is roasted chicken good?” Ivan asked eagerly, taking Alfred's hand as they walked west along the river. Apparently Alfred had accidental adopted a six foot tall child that was madly obsessed with him.

After three more days of trying to ditch a sleeping Ivan, Alfred was exhausted. How did the guy find him so easily every single time? Alfred even tried to literally run away, proud of his fitness and stamina. Ivan appeared an hour later, thinking it was a game of hide and seek.

It was morning. Alfred was dressing after a night of sleeping naked on the ground like usual. Without any real warning, Ivan was behind him. “I'm going to massage you. Sleeping on rocks is not good for your back.” the Russian said, wearing a determined expression. “No way in – Oof!” Alfred was interrupted suddenly, thick roots bursting out of the earth and holding him in place. His still naked skin itched from all the earthen magic touching him. Ivan straddled Alfred as he lay trapped on his stomach, beginning with slow touches.

“If you are worried about my sexual needs, I took care of them earlier.” Ivan volunteered the information breezily. It was comforting to know the stranger massaging you wasn't going to get an erection. It was also somehow worse that said stranger felt the need to say this. Still, this 'massage' was quite nice. Alfred could just kick his ass later.

After what felt like an hour of paradise, Alfred was putty in Ivan's surprisingly capable hands. “Now for the front!” Ivan cheered, looking far too pleased. The evil tree roots had sunk back into the earth, but there was another issue. The massage had been incredibly effective, so much so that Alfred was sporting a semi. It was just a reaction to stimuli at most. Ivan could jack off to them arguing, which was insane. Seeing actual arousal might trigger a sex attack, or a wedding. Probably both.

“Nope. I'm good.” Alfred denied, getting up and sprinting off with his clothes as fast as he could manage. Ivan looked befuddled, but didn't pursue him. Thank gods they were only a day from Rostislav, a notable fishing community. Thinking of corpses, Alfred's partial hard on died quickly. Rejoining his awful travel buddy, Alfred hoped he could keep his own sanity another day. He could just ditch the Russian at a busy market.

It was awful, but necessary. Today was an horrifyingly uncomfortable example as to why.


	7. Chapter 7

The view of the outside world was dreary and grey, weighed down by winter. Icicles hung off roofs like decorations. People shuffled from homes to work places and back again, barely conversing. Lord Braginsky couldn't be more pleased. Winter was a perfect season in every way. It discouraged enemy troops. It make citizens subservient. It was lovely to look at.

All these reasons were exactly why he adopted the mantle of General Winter. Of course, unlike winter itself, the general was starting to look run down. Things like this couldn't be helped at his age. Maybe his pale lavender eyes were a little sunken. Perhaps he smoked too much, and dabbed in arcane secrets more than most.

One thing was for certain, he was never getting another wife again. Not that he wanted one. Ever since he could remember, all the women in his life had been frail disappointments. He didn't trust them then or now. Of course, his favourite daughter, Natalia was an exception.

Natalia, known as Braginskaya Natalia Zimovna, was an example of perfection. She had sharp blue eyes of a predator, skin like smooth porcelain. She was military levels of alertness and tactical planning, while wearing demure dress to throw off the enemy. She was lethal, able to kill a man with everything from an ink quill to a door handle. Her storm and lightning magic was terrifyingly strong.

More important than anything else, Natalia was utterly obedient. His eldest daughter, Katerina, had a pathetically soft heart for all living things. At least that was expected of women. She was utterly incapable of following ordered without tripping or breaking something. Her healing magic was exceedingly rare, which was redeeming enough. At least she was worth acknowledging.

Ivan was a failure in every respect though. He was unwilling to join the military. The boy was always so maternal and weak like his mother. Thank god that bitch died giving birth to Natalia. The one good thing his third and final wife ever accomplished. The one thing that truly enraged General Winter was Ivan's face.

The lord had known his wife was cheating on him. All three of them had been at one point or another. He pretty much expected such failings of the weaker sex. His first wife, Marina, had been more loyal than the others and never bore children. Even when she killed herself, there was no legacy to claim. It made acquiring the next wife easier in retrospect.

Varvara had been an insufferable brat, even if she was beautiful. Her only child, Katerina, had been blessed with that ample body and water blue eyes. Varvara had to die in the end though, for leaking secrets to foreigners. Even if her child looked nothing like Winter, the real father was anonymous, which was good enough for the court of the grand prince.

Darya had been the the youngest, and most cruel of Lord Braginsky's wives. She flirted with anyone that would have her, a walking joke. General Winter could overlook all of this if the ungrateful she-beast would produce an male heir. That she did. She produce the most pathetic son in all of Kievan Rus, that could summon flowers.

Beyond all of this was his face. The little cretin had the same face and eyes as the warrior king of the Finns. The resemblance was unmistakable, and the flower nonsense was a dead giveaway. The Finnish king could speak with plants and animals. Magic changed slightly as it was inherited, but the overall theme was the same. It was painful how much Ivan wasn't his.

It was a good thing the flower summoning fool had been eaten by wolves near Vasingrad.

Lost in musings of the past, the general was brought to the present by a clearing of the throat. Natalia, and her Latvian slave, stood at attention. Next to the dangerously sharp beauty, the slave was a ruffled homely blond with wide scared eyes. It suited both his demeanour and magic, seeing far away through the eyes of owls. It was almost useless in any given situation, hence why he was so cheap at the slave auctions. Natalia had noted her latest birthday present with the beginnings of a cold smile. 

“Speak daughter.” Lord Braginsky ordered, not concerned to be seen in his tattered grey robes. Outside of social functions and work, he didn't enjoy dressing so pompously. “Father, I have news to report. My slave spotted Ivan, alive and well. He was leaving the Vasingrad forest with a German companion. I already have information on who the other one is. Also, Katya accepted the marriage offer from the duke of Normandy.” Natalia recounted with no emotion, looking forward.

“Oh that Matvey fellow. I am glad. The duke will treat her fairly. As for this Ivan nonsense, are you absolutely certain?” General Winter took the news pleasantly. He was relieved to send his most useless daughter off to warmer safer lands. The duke was a notable wizard, famous for controlling rain and most water in general. Such great power would be a lovely addition to the family breeding pool.

He was also certain this supposed sighting was fake, like all the other rumours about Ivan. Vasingrad was famous for being a predator riddled wasteland with a tiny logging town at it's core. There was no way weakling Ivan could survive the night bound and injured.

Under regular circumstances, the boy simply would have been executed. Four years ago, The grand prince had been exceedingly upset with Lord Braginsky's violent tendencies. Doing away with the boy had to be done quietly, under the pretense of being sent away.

“I verified his sightings with divination from the royal seers. Brother is alive.” Natalia replied, still monotone. General Winter's eye twitched at this, fury instant and volatile. Voice uneven, he growled “When. When was this.” Even Natalia looked nervous now, no longer looking at her father. The Latvian slave looked ready to break from the tension in the room.

“Eight days ago. They are heading to Rostislav, from what the owls overheard.” Natalia informed. “That little rat! His face, his awful voice! I will kill him personally, and he will never affront our family honour with his existence again!” Lord Braginsky roared, punching his personal writing desk. It exploded with ice, shards of frozen water and wood flying everywhere.

“Yes... father. When do you want to leave.” His dear daughter asked, voice wavering from vague negative emotion. “Today. You will come with me, to witness his death. You know you are my favourite, yes?” General winter confirmed, pulling his offspring into a wooden hug.

“Yes father.” Natalia said, resuming her robotic state. She made no attempt to return the gesture, as she had been taught. After all, she was a good girl, and hugs were supposed to remain special. They would ride hard and arrive at Rostislav in two days. If his idiot son was going on foot, he still had roughly four days until he arrived in town. Two days was more than enough time to lay a trap.

Family honour would be restored at any cost.


	8. Chapter 8

Alfred was ready to scream. He could tolerate wasting a whole day fishing together. He was willing to put up with all the invasive touching and comments. But this was the last straw. Alfred did not share sleeping space with anyone, ever. He learned that lesson a long time ago when he gave a lover serious burns. The once handsome stable boy's life was probably ruined forever.

“Fedya, why are you so upset?” Ivan called out from behind, struggling to keep up the forced march. “Because of you! You crazy psycho! You won't leave me alone!” Alfred yelled, refusing to look back. That evil Russian prick was probably wearing the biggest heart melting eyes ever. The tanned blond was not falling for that cruel ploy again. 

Suddenly, Alfred couldn't move his feet. He looked down, seeing pesky roots snaring his movement. “Release me or I swear to gods I will burn you to ashes.” he threatened, voice thick with angry Germanic accent. The voice that replied was low and soft, the crunching of river rocks behind him.

“P-p-please, do whatever you want Fedya. Just don't leave me alone out here. I d-d-don't want to be alone anymore.” Ivan whispered, sounding inhumanly sad. Alfred's temper was dowsed by the pitiful sound. Great. Now he felt like the biggest jerk in the known world.

Annoying vines slipped back into the earth as the hulking nut job appeared at Alfred's side. “How much space do you need? This much? More?” Ivan asked, actually tears welling up in his eyes. The taller man gestured roughly two arms lengths, making this all the more pitiful. Alfred groaned in exasperation, covering his face with his hands.

He was about to do something really stupid, he just knew it. Tears always got to him, to his innate need to help others. “That distance is fine.” he replied tersely. “Can... I touch you sometimes?” Ivan asked, hope in his voice again.

Biting his lip, Alfred wondered what side effects would occur from denying all contact. Ivan would probably go crazy, or start masturbating out in the open. “You can hug me sometimes.” Alfred offered sparingly, okay with some interaction. “Thirty two times a day. Perfect!” Ivan replied happily, having finally stopped sniffling. “One. That's it.” Alfred denied. “Twenty nine times a day?” Ivan countered, being a brat.

It went on like this as they walked west along the river in deep snow. Ivan would request a higher hug limit, and Alfred would deny it. After an hour of this foolishness, Alfred was once again in a foul mood. “I'll... stop. I'll be good.” Ivan murmured, going quiet. Normally the Russian was less chatty, unless he got all stirred up over something. Mostly Alfred's every move and breath.

Alfred wasn't going to fall for the guilt trip stuff a third time today, and dealt with the awkwardness. When sign posts for Rostislav started showing up, Alfred paused the journey. Ivan, mute for two hours now, looked ready to explode with questions.

“Stay still so I won't burn you.” the shorter man ordered. “I'm giving you a hair cut and a shave. Okay?” Alfred explained further, when the pale man backed away fearfully. “You're so kind, fedya.” Ivan whispered, violet eyes shimmering with love sickness. It was cute, but it also made Alfred queasy.

It took an immense amount of control, but Alfred's flames could be directed to burn off hairs and imperfections. He had mastered the weak spell years ago. Closing his eyes, he rested both palms on Ivan's gross patchy beard. The cave wizard's shaving attempts looked like they had been done with a rusty hatchet. About to begin, he heard a content sigh as Ivan leaned into the touch.

Annoyed, Alfred opened his eyes. “I love you.” Ivan purred, ready to melt in Alfred's grasp. The admission was hardly shocking, given how crazy Ivan was. “Of course you do. Now fucking stay still.” Alfred answered quickly. Ivan finally obeyed this time, deathly still and demurely pleased.

After burning off that unsightly beard, Alfred grabbed that ridiculously long braid and burned three quarters of it off. Clutching the tail of severed hair, Ivan seemed nervous. “It's gonna look great. I've been trimming my own hair for years.” Alfred promised with a smile. For a moment, it seemed like they were two regular people interacting. It was a novel experience after twelve stressful days of being openly stalked.

Ivan's hair was leagues better after. It was shaggy and framed his face. No longer did he look like a raving lunatic, even dressed in proper clothes. Now if he could only act the part. It was easy to imagine rampant plant life tearing up compacted dirt road wherever the wizard stepped. He bled magic like mad, completely untrained.

Alfred was hardly a teacher though. They would just have to wing it until Ivan was ditched at the market. The idea was even less palatable now than before. It was still the only way to get rid of the guy.

It wasn't long before they reach the walls of the fishing town. The once thick log walls had rotted to match sticks in thickness as people cruised through the gates unabated. The town's trade thrived even in winter due to water wizards constantly breaking up the thin ice. It was a common service, as common as water magic itself.

As merchants exited moored boats, slaves carried precious cargo to land via primitive wooden docks. Armed knights of various royal houses, the most common type of mercenary, strode along side the slaves with gleaming swords and pole arms. Languages and magic of all kinds were everywhere, giving scattered impressions on Alfred's skin like cast sand. On second thought, they would blend right in.

“This is not a small fishing town...” Ivan noted, clearly frightened by the colourful masses of people. “The place was a lot smaller when I passed through five years ago.” Alfred muttered, crossing his arms pensively. He really didn't want to go inside anymore. This many people made the tanned southerner nervous. Unattended objects set on fire was he was upset, and this was a town crammed with trader's stalls.

Both young men teetered at the edge of the crowd town entrance. It seemed fate was giving them no choice today. A moderately armoured mercenary flashing traditional Germanic colours was marching with purpose towards them. At the sight of his brilliant black and white kite shield notifying military, people easily gave way. 

“Alfred! The awesome me has found you!” the stranger greeted in a oddly familiar voice, German accent so thick you could carve it with a knife. When the man flipped up his partial visor helmet, the truth was known. Pale skin was gone ruddy pink from sunburn. Eyes crimson shone like rubies, a signal of his inherited albinism. His hair was fallen snow, poking out the edges of his helmet.

“Uncle Gilbert! What are you doing here?” Alfred asked, completely surprised. He received a very rough pat on the back as the proud German laughed obnoxiously. “I am taking you home, little puppy! Your father is very unhappy you ran away.” Gilbert explained, wearing a mischievous grin. Panicked, Alfred shook his head and backed away.

“It's been six years. I can't! I won't! I'm an adult. You can't make me!” he objected, sounding increasingly childish. He bumped into Ivan, whom settled comforting gloved hands on his shoulder. “You will not be taking him anywhere. He is my sunflower.” Ivan informed, the darkly possessive words entirely unexpected.

“Who is the freak?” Gilbert asked, not taking any of this seriously. “I am his lover, and he will not be going anywhere with you.” Ivan answered passionately on Alfred's behalf, now wrapping long around the object of his suffocating affections. The tanned blonde rolled his eyes. Not even an hour. The idiot couldn't respect his privacy requests for a fucking hour. He had to go. Now.

“Let's uh... talk this mess out at a bar or something.” Alfred suggested tiredly. “Yes! Beer! Let's go, puppy. I haven't partied in months!” Gilbert hooted in celebration, already forgetting his mission. Dragged through pulsing crowds, Alfred found himself in a seedy bar, smashed between Gilbert and Ivan in a booth seat. When he felt a large hand gingerly rest on his thigh, he yelped and crashed into Gilbert's hard armoured shoulder. The albino raised a brow in question, not having spilled a single droplet of beer from the collision. He was just awesome like that.

Nervous, Alfred swallowed and said “Um big guy? I need to talk to my uncle. Alone. Without you present. Could you be a dear and go... somewhere else?” Ivan narrowed his royal purple eyes, then frowned. “You won't abandon me here?” he asked softly. “Nope.” Alfred lied, hoping his smile didn't look fake.

After a moment, Ivan sighed, then left. Alfred immediately tried to shove past Gilbert, knowing he only had minutes. “Where do you think you're going? I have to bring you back with me.” the knight asked, easily holding Alfred in place. “You have to help me! He's fucking insane! He's been following me for a fortnight! He says he's in love with me! Please please let me go!” Alfred whispered hoarsely, straining against the armoured hand that pinned him down.

Gilbert was less than convinced. “I'll help you deal with this guy, but you are coming home. Little brother may be quick to forgive you for setting fire to his carpentry shop, but I am not. You will work off the damages, even if I have to chain you to the house.” the relative lectured, dropping his playful act for just a moment.

“It was an accident, I swear. I'll pay off the damages! just... let... me go!” Alfred pushed and flailed harder, not caring if he made a scene. It was already too late. “You are hurting my sunflower.” Ivan's dreadfully familiar voice growled. Wood creaked behind Alfred, but he still tried to claw his way to freedom. Big Russian arms pulled him back to earthen magic hell and cuddled him.

“My awesome nephew has no interest in being courted by you. Go back to whatever freaky bear cave you crawled from.” Gilbert ordered, as diplomatic as a punch to the face. “He's my favourite little fire wizard, my kissable sunshine, and you can't have him!” Ivan scoffed, nuzzling Alfred's honey blond hair after. Gilbert was about to fire back a witty response, when the words sunk in.

“Alfred... you're a wizard?” the pale German asked, gaping like a fish.


	9. Chapter 9

Father was invisible to the townspeople, but that was all a facade. Natalia could feel his cold prickling presence a block away. All winter wizards made her skin chill uncomfortably. At least being out of sight range made her the pretense of freedom. Not that the severe woman had ever sampled such pleasure.

Beneath the frozen crust of Natalia's emotionless existence, was fragmented remnants. What these pieces were, she was uncertain. Beyond fear, frustration, and anger, Natalia had very little experience with emotions. Sometimes this issue boiled to the surface, making functioning more difficult.

There was rare moments when Natalia's indomitable self control simply wavered, giving away to internal struggles. It had been months since the last time she doubted Father's judgment. Until she saw him shatter his desk out of rage days ago, she was certain he was of sound mind. Even as the frozen splinters of desk landed and began to thaw in his grey stone office, a dark thought had arose.

Natalia had bought that desk for him out of admiration, made from the finest frost resistant iron wood. If Father was so willing to destroy her gifts of admiration, maybe he would strike her as well. Father couldn't. He wouldn't. Natalia was his favourite, his chosen soldier of death. She had been his loyal understudy for years, learning everything he knew. Granted, a lot of this learning had come with heavy handed reminders of who was in charge.

Realizing she was becoming lost in the dark past, Natalie resumed her mission assigned. She was to 'look casual' and keep watch for big brother. Recalling her long estranged sibling to be exceptionally tall even for a Russian, the task was easy. She only had to look for a mop of shaggy platinum hair bobbing amidst the sea of traders and customers.

It was day two of this duty, and Natalia was becoming tired. Despite Father not giving her breaks or permission to service bodily needs, The dainty witch often flitted off to secretive places to do so. In all honesty, these past two days had been a lovely experience. More importantly, she wasn't locked up in the palace like one of the many guard dogs.

Natalia observed sisters with other sisters, men with their slaves, mothers with sons. This crowded trading hub held more than overpriced wares under colourful flapping banners. It was a perfect microcosm of human behaviours. One relation in particular was very interesting. 

There was many types of fathers interacting with many types of daughters. Some were young and demanded shiny baubles as their guardians ignored them. Still some others caved and purchased gifts. Other times the daughter was older. They would nag the parent as they were about to hand over glittering coins and other things. There was dozens of parental styles and children around her, ignored by strangers.

Only one seemed to attract negative attention. Perched on a roof top alongside city guards, Natalia had witnessed it five hours into her duty. A girl, barely old enough for a proper woman's dress, tripped on her own draping skirt. She dropped expensive pottery in the process. A man marched over, jeering “Useless girl! You can't even carry a jug right!” As squeaky cries of “I'm sorry Papa!” fell from the child, she was dragged off the ground. The supposed 'papa' then began beating her senseless.

The graphic scene barely registered to Natalia. She had been hit much harder for much less before. Bored, the ash blonde witch was about to drift her lifeless gaze elsewhere. Out of the hushed slowing crowds, an elderly woman shrouded in scarves appeared.

Infuriated, the matronly figure began lecturing the abusive male in true babushka fashion. Between rants of how precious all children were, she beat him weakly with her colourfully knit coin purse. Within minutes, two more grandmother figures had materialized. The trio of elders alternated between spoiling the upset child rotten and telling the man how awful he was. The crowd began to boo and hiss at the angry father. He stomped off, defeated.

An archer guard standing on the roof next to Natalia chuckled. “As it should be.” the armour clad stranger hummed, watching the scene as well.

Natalia raised a brow at this, not understanding. The mindless reactions of the crowd below was generally a good indicator of what was bad. Stealing was apparently acceptable, since pickpockets ran wild in the frozen muddy streets. Punching people was bad, drawing the ire of guards. Beating children was... bad? It had to be, given the reactions of the public to the act.

It was now an entire day since that event, and it still bothered Natalia. Everywhere she wandered, people still murmured about the public beating. All seemed to agree it was unforgivable. Natalia couldn't help but think of all the times father had struck her or the cleaners. He was talking ill of women or 'the weaker sex' in general all the time. It was distantly annoying, and somehow troubling.

No. No, this was one of those pesky fragments she suppressed so often. Natalia would speak with Father directly and clarify everything. Once she had spotted big brother, of course.

After seven hours of nonstop vigilance by the main town gate, Natalia's persistence paid off. Used to drowning in Father's freezing aura, the heaping snow on her shoulders was treated with indifference. Something else made her shiver.

Earthen magic, rampant and untamed as it brushed against her. It was soft spring soil and the scent of chamomile, like a returning memory. Brother. Lovely sweet big brother, with his innocent purple eyes and sun starved complexion. Truth be told, Natalia adored her only male sibling. When he suddenly abandoned the family four years ago without explanation, she had been crushed.

Even now, after such betrayal, Natalia still missed her Vanya. Granted she wasn't allowed to talk to him these days. The youngest sibling had gone out of her way to leave care packages at his bedroom door for years, and secret letters about how life was. Naturally Ivan was a block head. He assumed Katerina, practically invisible to Father, made the packages she delivered.

It didn't matter in the end who got the credit. Ivan being happy was all that mattered. Until he was gone forever.

Basking in the unique magic of her sibling, she followed the still hot trail by aura alone. Big brother was, unfortunately, still as untrained as ever. Father's story of him leaving for magical discipline seemed extremely suspect. Pushing through the crowds, Natalia was led to a pub, an unpleasant one at that. The interior was dark and moody, slightly hazy with pipe smoke. Seating herself in a corner, she took stock of the room.

There was Russian military and hardy Finnish sailors knocking back golden coloured ales. An older couple played a dice game against several younger lads. On the far wall was wooden booth seats with weak candle lighting. A German soldier of sorts was arguing with a tanned blond. The younger wizard leaked acrid fire magic akin to smoke as he protested something passionately. It was bad, like sulphur or burning parchment.

How unfortunate. Fire wizards were so painfully rare. To squander such gods given talent...

The shadowy figure beside the fire wizard leaned forward, wrapping an arm around his fuming companion. Pale complexion with hooded violet eyes was revealed by golden light. Natalia nearly called out to her brother the moment she recognized him, heart beating faster.

Big brother was alive and well, with a possible mate. The way he possessively touched and soothed his fiery friend was undeniable, like they were intimate lovers. Although displeased at not being informed, Natalia was happy her brother had found someone. Quietly, Natalia left her isolated corner table and sat in the booth directly behind a fully occupied Ivan. Straining German language lessons to the maximum, she listened to the loud conversation.

“... I can't believe you didn't tell Ludwig! He would be proud to had a wizard in the family! We could be famous right now!”

“Who in seven hells is going to buy boats from a family with a fire wizard Gillie? It's stupid.”

“Fire proof boats, little puppy! Awesome fireproof boats. We could be rich!”

“The shop set on fire three times. Father's boats are not fireproof.”

“Customers don't need to know that!”

A third male cleared his throat, and Natalia didn't realize it was her brother speaking at first. “Perhaps we should talk somewhere else. It is getting hot in here.” a pleasant voice suggested in awkward German.

“Yes, yes. I suppose. We need to head home immediately, my brother is going to dance with joy when he sees you are not dead.”

“Father never dances. Ever.”

“He will... tap his feet with joy! Because this news is so awesome!”

As all three men donned their cloaks and coats and left, Natalia ducked her head down. No one noticed her in the slightest. They wouldn't, given her atmospheric levels of training. She could crush her magic presence to the size of a stone, or strengthen it until her long hair was frizzy with static. Without a decade of training, she'd still be attracting storms and endangering her family.

Following big brother out of the pub, they ended up on the streets. Midday rush was dying off, and the masses were thinning out. Now was as good as any other time. “Braginsky Ivan Zimovich. Father requests your presence.” She declared before the trio.

All three men swivelled at her words. The freakishly pale knight looked confused. The tanned one looked concerned with a raised brow. Ivan's jaw hung in shock, holding his face with his gloved fingers. “Natalia. Are you... real?” he sputtered in Russian, reaching out tentatively.

Allowed herself to be touched, the young woman basked in the attention. It snowballed rapidly to tight hugs as Ivan lifted her off the ground and twirled her. Her mantle of aloof disinterest fell away like it always did with her Vanya. It was probably why he was banned from public appearances in the first place. “Again! Again! Squeeze me!” Natalia giggled, the sound alien to her own ears. How long had it been since she was this light of heart? Ivan obliged, seemingly just as desperate.

After various whimpered sounds of joy and need, the tangled siblings were interrupted. “So... Who are you?” the fire wizard asked blankly, expression puzzled. The knight smacked him on the arm, hissing “That's the next magical advisor of Kievan Rus. Bow before she melts out your eyes, Alfred!”

As the knight bowed deeply, the freckled southerner shrugged and did the same. “Lady Braginskaya, forgive his unawesomeness. Do you require my service?” the chivalrous soldier apologized. Unimpressed, Natalia finally disengaged from her sibling. “No. I only need my brother to come with me. Father requests him personally.”

“Your dad left you to die in a forest. Going with her would be stupid!” Ivan's short tempered lover blurted out thoughtlessly. Typical behaviour of a fire wizard, from what Natalia had observed in royal court. Not wasting a breath on the hot headed cretin, she set dead blue eyes on her dearest Vanya.

“I... will come. I wish to speak with fa... erm, General Winter as well.” Ivan agreed. As he stepped forward, his German travelling companion latched on tight. “No you don't! You may be a terrible person, but that crazy fucker is going to kill you!” this 'Alfred' argued, looking quite red in the face.

“I'm pleased you wish to marry, but I need to clear personal affairs. We can even get blessings from my family after.” Ivan noted, peeling the annoying creature off with a smile. “He's still trying to kill you, and we're not lovers. You're just completely insane!” the other one opposed, still trying to drag dearest brother in the wrong direction.

The knight stood by uselessly, as they tend to do, awestruck by all the royal names being tossed around. “I am glad you found love, but this matter is very important.” Natalia insisted calmly, tapping her foot with growing impatience. It went on this way for a few minutes, until the cold prickling on her skin plunged to freezing dread. The snow outside was frenzied now as it danced on her chapped skin.

“Step aside daughter.” a gravelly voice ordered behind her. The woman obeyed, saluting smartly. She watched impassively as the aging wizard whispered a few chants. A thick icy blade grew in his hands as his body was encased in gleaming frosty full plate.

“Too long you've worn his face, pretending to be my son. Sullying family honour with your existence. You couldn't even die in the forest properly.” the veteran figured threatened. Father fell into monologue uselessly, one of his few weaknesses. He advanced gracefully, empowered by his frozen surroundings.

The fight was pathetic. This silly duel only further displayed how untrained and unprepared her Vanya was. Brother dodged and rolled hastily, while Father swung his weapon wide and occasionally blasted small cones of deathly sharp ice. The destruction was starting to extend beyond the wide muddy street, impaling thin wooden walls of snow topped shops and houses.

Natalia had refused to believe it until she witnessed it. Father really wanted to kill his only son over... family pride? One of those ignored fragments of her suppressed nature screamed louder than ever to be voiced.

“Father, killing him will accomplish nothing.” Natalia objected loudly, daring to follow a long denied urge. It felt decidedly good to speak up, like lifting a yoke off her shoulders. Just as Ivan tripped and fell prone, Father lifted his large conjured weapon for the final strike. At hearing defiance, his action paused. The fire wizard had attempted to aid his lover a moment ago with a pathetic cone of fire. He was now frozen in a large lump of rapidly melting ice.

“What did you just say?” Father snarled, now ignoring brother completely. The expression that twisted back to face her was horrifying. It was the same furious grimace that only executed slaves or badly prepared dinners witnessed. “You are... wrong, to kill big brother. He's very nice to me.” Natalia repeated, bravery wilting quickly.

The street, having emptied the second a wizard duel broke out, was now devoid of rats as well. The freezing wind was becoming unbearable. Even the hotly dressed knight keeled over and cursed the weather, immobilized and shivering.

It felt like death itself touching her. Father grabbed her by the throat, eyes now glazed grey with magic. “You will witness me kill this piece of waste. Then you will lick my boots for mercy. No one defies my orders.” he growled. “N-n-never.” the ash blonde gasped, losing air fast as she pried at the hands encasing her neck. “You were supposed to be good. You were my favourite. I have lost two children this day.” Father continued maniacally, making no sense.

Until he did. Father was going to kill Ivan and her, apparently with little provocation.

If Natalia was going to die, she was dragging the unhinged crazy fucker with her.

Most people didn't have such volatile dangers locked inside. Most people didn't have to tightly contract their minds and muscles at all times. Storm magic built slowly and was easy to siphon off. Lightning was dangerous, capable of frying trees and melting metal. Natalia trained intensely at home with weapons, up to four hours a day. It was all a ploy to suppress every jolt until it was needed. It had been months since Natalia shocked anything, ready to burst with emotion and energy.

As she was choked harder, the dusky blue eyed blonde grinned. Natalia then completely relaxed her body. The already thick snow clouds above the town instantly darkened. With a tapering breath, the last of her mind let go.

The lightning stripped her of her senses as it ripped from the sky. Ears ringing with spot seared vision, Natalia could only smell and feel as her father was struck by lightning repeatedly. His touch grew hotter with each bolt, hair and skin charring. The foul odour of cooking humans always made her cringe. After at least thirty two lightning bolts within five seconds, his body disintegrated badly enough that the hands strangling her simply fell away.

Suddenly exhausted, she fell to her knees and gasped for breath. Still blind and deaf, Natalia waited. She had never channelled so many bolts through her own body like that. Normally it was remotely directed up to five miles away. Though the pain had been sharply exquisite, her body was unharmed. Remaining static build up made her shudder and curl as it danced on her skin.

As she regained the ability to see vague shapes and colours, her sensitive hearing stopping ringing. “Relax sister, It's only me.” A nearby dark brown blob soothed, spotted with beige. Soft plant roots broke through frozen earth stubbornly and twined with her fingers.

“Big brother. I am sorry I didn't defend you. After you left us, I thought you didn't love me anymore. I didn't believe father was really going to... kill you.” Natalia confessed, ready to sleep for a week. “Hush little fish, just ground yourself.” Ivan's soothing voice whispered.

Only Ivan's plants could handle a young Natalia during her extraordinarily dangerous temper tantrums. Only Ivan had remembered her birthdays, leaving bunches of flax flower and baby's breath at the foot of her bed. He was the only one brave enough to touch her, unafraid of being electrocuted.

When the vines had absorbed enough residual shock, her precious big brother wrapped those big bearlike arms around her. He had always been a larger boy, not resembling Father in the slightest. Natalia couldn't come to care though. They shared memories and a mother. That was all that mattered.

“It's okay. He tried to have me killed before. It wasn't your fault.” Ivan replied sweetly, kissing her chastely on the cheek. “I'm going to have your name restored, and I'm going to take care of you. We'll live together again, and you can help me sleep like you used to...” Natalia rambled, deliriously clinging to the embrace plush with muscles and fur trimmed coat.

No one would speak ill of her big brother ever again.


	10. Chapter 10

It had half a year since Father had been horrifyingly murdered. The sight of the man's shrivelled and cooking corpse was still burned into Ivan's mind. Some of his limbs had been nothing but charcoal and dry bone. After some hefty bribes, the murder was swiftly labelled as a fatal duelling accident. Entirely legal of course, under draconian chivalry rules.

Although Ivan had no desire to return to the crystal palace in the capitol city, he still visited one a month for his family's sake. With Katerina shipped far away in a new marriage, little sister needed the company. 

“Is the new meditation centre treating you well Vanya?” The petite woman inquired, every word dripping with sincere love. Emotions often void in her otherwise stressful life as the new court wizard. “Yes. They have been very nice to me. They don't strap me down at night like the old one did.” the male noted pleasantly.

Ivan was relieved his sweet sister had drawn him back into the fold. These past six months had been nonstop mental therapy and life lessons. All of this while safely contained in magic protected meditation centres. Every wizard was invaluable, so much so that all the grand princes sponsored programs for fixing abused or 'unstable' wizards just like Ivan. Of course, staying at these places of healing long term was exorbitantly expensive. Natalia had been there to foot the bill since he beginning, all while providing tutors.

“I'm pleased. I can already feel how controlled your earth magic is becoming. Soon you'll be the talk of the court.” Natalia said, delicately perched on her chair as she sipped black tea. Looking at the elegant figure in her lily white dress, Ivan frowned in resignation.

She was still delusional about his return. He was actually planning to move closer to the Germanic regions in the south west. Between the warm forests and living near his beloved Alfred, the choice of move was obvious. He still needed to clean up his act if he was going to impressive his true love though.

Beneath the new manners and fine state of dress, an all consuming fire still raged. The obsessive need to possess Alfred grew everyday. Ivan would kill just to see the young man and taste his caramel skin. The tall proud Russian would easily bend to the fire wizard's burning touch. The ash blonde desired to be Alfred's filthy love slave, lapping up cum like an obedient dog. Of course, Ivan wanted to be balls deep in his beloved as well. He would do anything to be in that position. He had wet dreams about it constantly.

Natalia cleared her throat. Pulling Ivan out of his explicit day dreams, he stopped staring into the ether. “Your lover was to be arranged for marriage to a baroness from Cabenry.” his sister noted dryly. A strangled sound of sorrow bled from Ivan's throat in place of words. “Is he... he...” the man stammered, gripping his tea cup so hard it might crack.

The vigilant sister walked over, gently prying the fine china from his rough grip. “The man refused the offer. Last time we spoke, he seemed quite unhappy. I would be too, being the son of a lowly carpenter. It's a wonder the shop doesn't burst into flames everyday.” she mused, returning to her own parlour chair.

“I have to go to him... I have to propose, so no one else can... Fedya is mine. No one else can touch him... My darling forever.” Ivan muttered, forgetting his manners in seconds. Natalia clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Vanya, Vanya, my little rose. We've talked about this. You have to trick him into loving you first. You are certain he favours men over women?” She asked, for this was perfectly normal conversation material.

“Yes... I see the way he admires others, even me at one point. It's undeniable. It's only naturally that we'll have babies together and live happily ever after.” Ivan swooned, blushing. It was to imagine the rosy picture. Alfred and Ivan, growing old together in a picturesque cottage surrounded by their offspring. “I've told you before, only women can get pregnant.” his sister corrected tersely.

“The king of fairies said I could, if I believed hard enough.” Ivan pouted, taking back his tea. “That green eyed loon isn't the king of anything. You shouldn't take dating advice from other... troubled people at the centre. Especially with those eyebrows. Disgusting.” Natalia scolded, pausing to take another sip.

Ivan nodded sagely as he leaned back and cross his legs. “Yes. He was cursed for leaving the sealie court with a rather ugly mortal body. Or so he claims.” he agreed. “Speaking of courts, a scroll came for you.” Sister mentioned, handing him a wooden delivery tube. Ivan took it reverently noting the craftsmanship.

Fine filigree vines and flowers had been carved and painted onto the wooden cylinder. Something this lovely cost several days wages for even well paid royal servants. “It seems you've caught the eye of someone with money.” Sister teased, in her own flat way.

Excited to be the recipient of mail, Ivan popped the wax sealed lid off gleefully with the handle of his tea spoon. Sliding the rolled parchment out, he unrolled it slowly. Sometimes the mail would get too dry or damaged and crack from rough handing.

A familiar seal of a golden lion with a sword was framed by curving pines and flowers. Decidedly less graceful script was below the stamped image. The ash blond read it intently, only stumbling over horrendous Finnish words a few times. The entire language was like butchering a cat.

Ivan was shocked that such atmospheric royalty would even be aware he existed. “Who is it?” Natalia demanded, impatient. “It's... the king of the Finns, that King Tino Oxten... something rather.” Ivan revealed, giving up easily on the lengthy surname. A lot of nobility were like that, with impossible titles.

“The warrior king? What about him?” his sister asked, dark blue eyes burning with curiosity. “He wants me to work and train in his service. He feels my Earthen magic is wasted in Keivan Rus.” Ivan supplied, still shocked. “Oh Vanya, you must go! He's part of the grand Nordic council! If he sees potential in you, the opportunity can't be wasted.” his sister cheered, actually sounding cheerful.

After a moment, she beamed at him with barred white teeth. It was kind of scary. Smiling was a thing Natalia was not so great at. “I'm so proud. What did you do to get his notice?” she congratulated him richly. “I don't know.” Ivan replied honestly, confused yet cautiously happy. If anything, the wary man had been hiding since the rather public death of his father. Everyone assumed he was the winner of the fatal 'duel', since there was established bad blood before.

Really that battle had been a joke. Ivan was almost decapitated three times by that icy summoned blade. Alfred had been neutralized in the blink of an eye. Natalia was really astounding in her destructive capability, rescuing both of them. Prior to going temporarily blind from the lightning flashes, Ivan witnessed father glow as he was cooked to death by electricity.

“The king also mentioned I could bring along a... companion... of my choice.” Ivan said out loud as he read it. His heart hammered at the thought of a month long boat ride with Alfred present. The tiny cabins, the shared meals in a cramped galley... It all became so intimate with his dearest sunshine involved. Having to sleep so closely they could hear each other's breathing...

“How. How did he know of my perfect sexy Alfred? Did he see our wedding in the future?” Ivan swooned, once again blushing. Natalia rolled her eyes at the display. “I mentioned you were to be betrothed at a party some time ago. The news must have travelled far.” she noted, uncaring. “I assume you will marry the fool once he falls in love... somehow.”

“He walks into love. He told me as much.” Ivan answered stubbornly. Natalia snorted derisively. “You will have to drag him into love if you take any longer. This king Tino probably expects your services as soon as possible. If he is as bossy as the grand prince, he probably wanted you there two months ago.”

Ivan nodded thoughtfully. His drawn out recovery plan would have to be hastened. Originally, Ivan was going to take up to a year to get straightened out and 'proper'. During the winter or spring, Ivan was going to court Alfred with reverse psychology, playing hard to get. By the summer they would be betrothed, and the families could get together to start arranging a wonderful wedding. It would be an event to make the gods themselves jealous.

Now the flustered Russian had a month before he was expected to leave for Finnish shores. Not much of anything you could do with a month. Very well. He would just have to improvise. It was a proven fact that Russians were extremely resourceful after all.


	11. Chapter 11

Three months ago, Alfred never imagined he would willingly be on a boat with the most terrible person in the word. Thing is Ivan wasn't even bad anymore. After disappearing mysteriously for almost two seasons, the loon came back. Expecting to be proposed to right in the doorway of Father's house, Alfred was shocked to receive an apology. Further more he was politely invited out for tea at a trendy place beside the mighty Rhine river.

Alfred's ambitious workaholic father pushed him to accept the offer. The moment that Braginsky family crest was spotted on Ivan's fur lined cloak, father was scheming new business plans. Anything to sell another fleet of Beilschmidt brand boats. Nothing, not even arranged marriage, was above consideration.

Before the opportunistic father could enterprise royalty standing on the front porch, Alfred hurriedly grabbed a sweater and headed out the door. Working for the man was horrible anyway. Father was so proud his son was a wizard, he told anyone that would listen. Bound for greatness, Ludwig would say. First wizard in the family, he boasted to all the women at the market.

Uncle Gilbert, when he wasn't gone on military campaigns, only made it worse. The albino claimed Alfred could kill dragons and topple kings. Not that anyone really believed him longer than a few minutes. It certainly made Alfred a local celebrity of sorts. The problem was, he was expected to be good at stuff now.

So far all Alfred had done was craft sub-par boat paddles and accidentally burn a lot of prize lumber. It was all so stressful. His sister and three brothers were much more talented at the family trade than he. Alfred had been gone for six years after all. His baby sister Agniesha didn't even recognized him, while his older brothers just grunted morning greetings in the standard German way. It was just how they were.

With that mess waiting at home, Alfred was relieved to go out for light dinner. The tea place was very casual, with Ivan being the overdressed one. “I thought you would have taken me to a fancy place worth Dad's entire house per plate.” Alfred joked as he snacked on braided honey bread. Crumbs were going everywhere, naturally.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable. After all the horrible things I said to you last winter. I wasn't sure you would want to see me at all.” Ivan explained softly, sadness tinting his voice. “That was really thoughtful. I'm pretty sure you being left in a cave to die just made you... weird for a while.” Alfred said, surprised at how articulate and intelligent his dining companion was acting.

“Yes. But I am much better now. I've been trying to readjust and grow as a person. I was actually in the area on family business, and decided to visit. How are you?” Ivan said cordially.

“I'm... okay. I'm a really bad carpenter, but dad is just... He's probably charging money so people can kiss where you were standing earlier... He wants to use me as part of the family brand. It's too much pressure.” Alfred admitted easily, feeling at ease on the simple riverside deck.

“I understand completely. Natalia wants me to become her understudy, and take her place someday. It has been frustrating. Storm magic and earthen magic are not the same, and she is a very... impatient teacher.” the other agreed, rolling his eyes at the mention of the famous 'storm queen' of Kievan Rus.

The two men sipped tea and ate excellent food for a time, listening to the splashes and ripples of the Rhine. Fragrant flowers Alfred couldn't place drifted on the air as the sun began to set. “This was nice.” Alfred hummed, relaxed for the first time in days. “Yes. It was lovely.” Ivan agreed again. Alfred still couldn't get over how good the guy looked now. 

The Russian was more fit than ever, with a fantastic hair cut and smart clothes. He looked ready to stroll into a noble's house, yet humble enough to sit at a commoner's bar. Beyond all this, he was so calm and reserved. The transformation from a love starved beast to a gentleman was amazing. A secretly incurable romantic, Alfred couldn't deny the beauty of their dining location either.

“I kinda have to go home, since I just walked out of work. But... I wouldn't be... opposed... to another outing. To catch up and talk about our lives.” The freckled blonde offered, hurriedly smashing the last part on. “Of course. To catch up. It's been a long time.” Ivan replied, a twinkle in those devilish violet eyes.

Three totally-not-dates later, Alfred was hiding from a very angry father. Ivan had showed up with an offer of sightseeing, and Alfred took it. Anything to not work in that slave pit of a wood shop. Now the pair was hiding behind a building, giggling as they planned how to get Alfred back in the house. A very upset blond father was currently waiting in the entry way, staring out a window.

“I don't want to work in there. Let's just spend your money doing fun stuff again.” Alfred whined, pressed close to Ivan in the claustrophobia alleyway. There was a low chuckle, as Ivan ruffled his hair affectionately. “I would love to, but... responsibilities... and...” the Russian trailed off, looking Alfred in the eye.

This. This moment was happening again, like a shared electric current of lust between them. Summer blue melted into amethyst as Alfred lost himself in that blatantly adoring stare. Alfred had been scared before, shying away at the last minute. He regretted it for a week. Ivan softly touched him, tugged him closer. Those lips looked so kissable, a gentle shade of pink similar to the blush they shared. The outside world seemed to fall away.

Impulsively, Alfred pulled that handsome face close and kissed for all he was worth. It wasn't like he was going to marry the guy, and Alfred was so unbearably horny lately. The Russian responded strongly, pinning Alfred to a wooden wall as he consumed him. Each kiss was like mint and honey, addictive to taste. Holding tight, Alfred groaned as the heated tangle of tongues ended. Gone was Ivan the reserved gentleman. This man was definitely going to fuck Alfred senseless right in the alleyway.

Maybe it was the weather. Maybe toiling in a work shop was driving Alfred off the edge. Regardless, the young man was all for hot sex until he couldn't speak words. Ivan started sucking and biting Alfred's neck as they ground their hips together. This elicited yet more keens of pleasure as Alfred grabbed Ivan's fine ass through those sexy summer shorts.

Just as Ivan managed to fumble open the buttoned fly on Alfred's heavy work pants, Father appeared around the corner. He looked pissed beyond all measure, electric blue eyes glaring. “Dad, I was just – Ooooooh gods, ooooh...” Alfred moaned in the middle of an excuse as Ivan fell to his knees and deepthroated a newly freed erection. The heat, the wetness, it made an inexperienced Alfred melt.

Father left, clearly peeved. Alfred didn't care, gripping Ivan's soft locks as he started fucking that perfectly chiselled face. Ivan moaned in approval of being used, the sound vibrating around Alfred's throbbing prick. It was embarrassing how quickly Alfred came, or it would have been. That look of absolute devotion that Ivan gave as he swallowed every drop of cum made it all better. That fawning gaze make Alfred feel like he was a god, extremely flattering.

A month since that fateful dinner on the Rhine had past. Alfred's work was lower quality and quantity than ever. He took every chance to ditch work, sometimes gone an entire day. Coincidentally, shop fires were no longer happening and everyone seemed happier as a whole. Everyone but Father. It was exactly why Ivan, Alfred, Father, and father's secretary were sitting in the front office of the house.

The silence was deafening. Father just stared at Alfred from behind the finely carved wooden desk. His face was torn between sorrow and frustration. It reminded Alfred of constipation more than anything. The lively slave seated next to Father just smiled, easily the German's favourite. The displaced brunette had been bought from the market before most of the children were born. Feliciano was adored and spoiled rotten by the entire family, despite technically being an enslaved accountant from Rome.

The Roman scratched his iron collared neck idly, taking long sleepy blinks. Ivan fidgeted, looking ready to burst from holding in secrets. Fed up, Alfred stood and turned to leave the stifling hot office. “You are not going anywhere, Alfred. We need to talk.” Father objected.

“Fine, then talk.” The younger man spat, dropping back in his chair again. “You haven't been... The work output at the shop... This is so difficult!” Father complained after several false starts, running a hand through his slicked back hair. “Should I say the quotes Captain?” Feliciano asked with a bright smile, largely oblivious. “No... Yes. Just read the charts Feli.” Father muttered, smiling at the desk upon hearing the affectionately misused title.

Feliciano rattled off an alarming list of expenses, including broken furniture and products not good enough for public sale. Alfred had a really bad feeling this was related to him somehow. Still listing ever bigger numbers, the accountant had to pause and take a big breath. “That's enough.” Father ordered.

The Roman nodded, bubbly as ever. “Do you want fresh gingerbread? I made it earlier. Alfred? Growing children need tasty food!” He asked cheerfully. Father silently nodded, while Alfred eagerly replied “Of course. Your gingerbread is the best.” Father once again resumed looking constipated as Feliciano dashed off to fetch baked treats.

“Alfred... I love you very much. As much as a father can. But... You are a terrible carpenter. All of those expenses are... because of you.” Father finally revealed, nearly mournful. Not bothered in the slightest, Alfred casually asked “So. Am I getting fired?”

“Not exactly. Ivan Braginsky gave me an interesting offer, that would nullify all my losses. But It's... I want you to choose it willingly.” Father hedged around topics yet again, gesturing to Ivan. The Russian cleared his throat, faintly blushing. It was rather cute, Alfred decided.

“I'm supposed to be headed off to serve the Finnish king, but I've stayed here longer than planned. Between the weather and... other distractions, I'm quite late.” Ivan began shakily, gaining confidence. “I require a travel companion. When I arrive in the Finnish court, I would also need an assistant, or possibly an advisor. I'm not certain what my duties are yet. I want you to fill that role. Of course I'd compensate your family for your time. If you became unhappy... I suppose the contract could be... dissolved.”

Ignoring the fear and heart break staining those last words, Alfred gaped. “The king. The king of those guys that kicked everyone's asses like twenty years ago. The awesome warrior king?” he rambled, awestruck. “Yes, the awesome warrior king. He favours earthen wizards, luckily for me.” Ivan confirmed, heart break gone as quickly as it came.

“So. I get to have great sex, travel the world, and work for a king, instead of pissing off dad all day. And my family gets paid.” Alfred summarized crudely, making Ivan's blush intensify. Worth it. “Ah... yes.” Ivan answered softly, looking like he might melt from joy. Father cringed at the sexual references and display before him, silent.

“Great. Where do I sign?” the tanned blonde asked, now visually searching the perfectly clean desk for an ink quill and pot. “Don't you want to review the agreed payments?” Father pointed out, as if this was the most important aspect of the contract. “Dad, I love you so much. I really do. But I hate working here. I hate carpentry, and I keep melting nails by accident. I could be getting laid on a boat headed to...” Alfred paused his genial response to think.

“Finland.” Ivan supplied in the background.

“... right. On a boat to Finland, where ever the seven hells that is, on the adventure of a lifetime. Or I could stay here, burning all you fancy stuff by accident. Besides, you wouldn't have considered the offer if money bags here was being cheap.” the freckled young man continued, eager to travel again.

“You can't even read Finnish.” Father argued stubbornly.

“I'll learn.”

“You don't even know where your going.” The concerned parent insisted.

“I don't have to! I'm not driving the boat!” Alfred pressed on, just as stubborn.

“You don't drive a boat, you steer it. How am I going to keep you safe if you don't know the basics of boating? You need to stay here with me.” Father appealed again, starting to look more upset than constipated. Feliciano returned, plate heaping with still warm gingerbread. Ivan grabbed a slice immediately, apparently starving.

Chuckling, Alfred held his father's scarred and calloused fingers. “Dad. I love you. I'll send you scrolls all the time about how I'm doing. I'll even tell everyone how amazing your boats are, all the time. Until they buy three dozen to shut me up.”

“If anything happens...” father began nervously.

“If anything bad happens, or I'm unhappy, I'll come back. Okay?” Alfred assured. Work roughened hands finally squeezed his, then released as Father leaned back in his chair. “Okay. Feli, bring the contract, and the family seal. It's in...” he ordered, surprised as the slave perked up. “Yes boss!” the roman chirped, bouncing off yet again.

“He is adorable.” Ivan murmured, munching on his sweet treat. “Not for sale under any circumstances.” Father replied instantly, rather frosty. He became defensive like that over his favourite slaves. Feliciano, Romano, and Antonio were easily his hardest working, if most eccentric, resources. He had been offered immense sums of money for the trio in the past. He turned every deal down without even looking at the numbers involved.

Almost two months had past since Alfred signed that fateful contract. He now stood on the bow of a large ship, salty sea winds ruffling his sun bleached hair. The choppy dark blue sea crested white foam as the boat cut through waves. Ivan stood beside him, squinting at shapes in the distance. It was the first direct sign of land since the vessel left the deep river systems of northern Germanic territory six days ago.

“The captain said it was the capitol city. We're almost there.” Ivan informed. Twining his fingers with Alfred's, the Russian smiled. “Are you ready for adventure, Fedya?” “Of course, Vanya.” Alfred replied easily, his own expression light and joyous.

A new chapter of his life was about to start, and Alfred couldn't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a Kudos!


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